Lazarus
by aixla
Summary: After Mulder's return, Scully writes about her feelings. SPOILERS for DeadAlive


Title: Lazarus  
Author: Ailie McFarland  
E-Mail: aixla@juno.com  
Fandom: X-Files  
Spoilers for DeadAlive (aired 4/1/01)  
Rating: PG  
Archive: http://www.geocities.com/aixla/fanfic.html  
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive  
Disclaimer: I am not Chris Carter, almighty creator of the X-Files. *Sigh*  
Feedback: Please! Scully's writing has a very particular style to it, which I attempted to capture here. Please let me know if I succeeded.  
  
Dedication: For Amanda ... because I miss her, her funky colored eyes, and her Marita impression. "The chickenssssss. Ah yessssss. The chickensssssss ...."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
Scully: Do you know, do you have any idea what you've been through?  
Mulder: Only what I see in your face.  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
For some reason, I am not all that surprised to be siting here by your side, writing these words as you sleep. When I buried you, I was unable to reconcile with the fact that you would never return. I kept your apartment exactly as it was when you left it. I stopped by almost every day, under the pretense of feeding your fish, although I knew that could not be the only reason. And now, three months later, I have the answer why.  
  
I should have known something as small and petty as death would never be able to stop you.  
  
I suppose the other reason I am not surprised by these circumstances is that in the eight years I have known you, I have spent a great deal of that time sitting in hospital rooms much like this one. You seem to have a great proclivity toward getting shot. Or perhaps it is only the X-Files that brings us here, as I seem to recall you spending a great deal of time by my bedside as well. Regardless of the reason, this is a situation we have found ourselves in more than once. I must admit this is the first time I've ever been grateful for the opportunity, as it is much better than visiting your grave as I have been doing for the past three months.  
  
I write these words to you now, much as I wrote during my own illness some years ago. I am still unsure as to when I will show them to you, or if I will at all. But knowing you, you will probably find this before I have the chance to make that decision, so it makes little difference.   
  
I don't think I will ever be able to put into words what this means to me. I found your lifeless body in the woods, but as I write this I am watching the screen which monitors your beating heart. I watched them lower your coffin into the earth, and today I held you in my arms. The Scully you remember would be racking her brain for a logical answer, something to explain how this could have happened. And although I am looking for those answers, and will continue to do so, something has changed. I have opened my mind to the extreme possibilities, to the fact that we are not alone, and that no medical technology on this planet can explain what has happened to you.  
  
And this is only the beginning. So much has happened, so much has changed that it is hard for me to know where to begin. Even my body has grown and changed beyond what you remember. The life growing within me was there before I lost you, but even I did not know it at the time. How could I, when we were told that the procedure had failed? This time, these months, have been so difficult. I have imagined my child never knowing you, growing up with only stories of what you were like, the man that you were. Knowing now that you will be an active part of his or her life gives me more joy than you can possibly imagine.  
  
If the baby is a baby at all. I try not to think about these things, as for now there is nothing that can be done. My suspicions are only that, and my instincts hard to trust with my body ravaged by the strange hormones of pregnancy. I have tried to imagine what you would say, what advice you would give. More than anything though, I just wished that you were here. Your mere presence gives me more comfort than words ever could.  
  
Agent Doggett just peered through the window. You aren't going to like him, I know that much for sure. I didn't either, at first. But over time I grew to trust him with my life, and I hope you can learn to do the same. He is a good man, and has taken his time on the X-Files as seriously as could possibly be expected.  
  
It seems strange to me that after all this time, the months of searching for you, that he is reluctant to come and meet you now that you are found. I suppose it is because he is still new to the X-Files. He has seen a great deal since he drew this assignment, but nothing like this Lazarus-act which is put before him now. Even I would have a hard time putting this through the sieves of logic and science.  
  
You look like you are beginning to stir, and although it is somewhat easier to organize my thoughts and feelings on paper, there is nothing I would rather do right now than talk to you. That first moment when you opened your eyes and looked at me, I thought my heart would stop. And now I am about to have the chance to experience the miracle of your life again. You may not believe it now, but your life is a gift from God, an answer to my prayers. I can only hope that as you have helped me to see the truth about so many things, I can convince you of this one. 


End file.
